


All You Need

by eprime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: mwpp_mischief, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eprime/pseuds/eprime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easter hols sixth year, James shows Remus that there's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. (It's easy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the rare pairs fest at mwpp_mischief community. Fic inspired by the picture prompt shown below.

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/eprime/pic/0000g1r6/)

 

"I hate you, Moony."

"Yes, that's obvious."

Remus made a half-hearted effort to free himself from James' clinging embrace. He couldn't get a solid foothold in the sand, though, and James just grinned and held tighter, his hot breath loud and deliberately irritating in Remus' ear.

"I mean it. Look at you. You've got a fucking marvelous tan, while I'm still white as a ghost." James swung him around, sending them stumbling drunkenly closer to the hard, wet sand nearer the breaking waves. "What sort of Englishman are you?"

"A too sober one considering how soused you are." Remus grinned as James grabbed the open front of his shirt and hauled him closer.

"It's 'cause you're intoxicating, Moony."

"Of course I am."

"I'm inspired to sing a song to your great charms."

Remus groaned. "Not again."

"I could recite a sonnet instead."

"Do you know any?"

James frowned, swaying slightly and making Remus sway with him as his hands were still fisted in Remus' shirt.

"Bollocks."

"I don't think that qualifies."

"I shall have to whisper sweet nothings in your ear then."

Before James could make good on that threat, he staggered back and fell to the sand with a wet plop. Remus toed his ribs with a dirty foot and smirked down at him. "All right down there?"

"Moony, let's try surfing tomorrow. A couple of sticking charms and we'd be set."

"Water'll freeze your bits right off. Besides, I was hoping to see St. Piran's Cross."

James' inelegant snort disturbed a nearby seagull. Remus watched it take flight with a sympathetic grin.

"You're chasing away the wildlife, Prongs."

"Aren't. You're still here, yeah? Great sodding wolf."

At times like these, when James was exhibiting his own personal (and highly tactless) brand of moral support that related specifically to Remus' furry little problem, Remus was never more grateful; especially when he considered the horrified expressions that would likely cross his parents' faces or almost anyone else's in the know if they heard James' blunt proclamations. That was James' way: no shirking from the reality, just a casual and total acceptance of what was that couldn't help but warm even Remus' carefully guarded heart.

He smiled a little.

"A must have for any picturesque beach scene in Cornwall."

"Too right. Who gives a flying fuck about seabirds anyhow? Much rather get nature shots of a grotty, jumper-wearing, teenage werewolf." James flopped on his back and made a viewfinder with his thumbs and index fingers, framing Remus' amused face.

"Pardon me. Grotty? And I haven't worn a jumper all week. Except for Tuesday morning. There was a terrible chill in the air."

"You're a pathetic girl's blouse, Lupin."

"Says the lad who--"

Whatever Remus was going to say was interrupted by James lunging up and tugging him to the sand with him.

"Stop looming over me, my neck's starting to ache from looking up at you."

"I'm going to have sand in my ears now," Remus complained. "And in my hair. You know how hard it is to get that out."

James' index finger was shoved abruptly into Remus' field of vision. " _Accio_ sand!"

"We left our wands at the cottage, you plank."

"I'm practicing wandless magic."

"Wandless or witless?"

"Ohhh, Moony. You're going to regret that." James looked at Remus with liquid eyes and drawn brows, as if contemplating secret knowledge of some really dire fate that life had in store for his mate.

Remus, of course, knew exactly how probable such a fate was while in the vicinity of James Potter, so he immediately attempted to scramble away, crab backwards.

"Oh, no you don't!" James flung himself on top of Remus with an utter willingness to do both himself and Remus untold damage.

"Oh, for--bloody hell, Prongs! Not _again_." Remus thrashed wildly underneath him, but James' knobby knees dug into his thighs as the four-eyed git wrenched his jeans open. It was a lost battle after that as James stood and tugged them off in one fell swoop before taking off down the beach, screaming like a banshee with the trousers trailing like a banner behind him.

Remus sighed. He hoped he wouldn't end up shocking a group of old ladies again, out for an innocent beachside stroll in their Easter hats. He was going to be locked up by the Muggle authorities at this rate, even if the beach was deserted this late in the day.

At least he'd long ago learned his lesson about always wearing nice, clean underpants. He tugged his shirt hem in a futile attempt to cover himself decently and narrowed his eyes at James, who had stopped about a hundred feet up the beach and was taunting Remus with a ridiculous looking dance, punctuated by the whirling of Remus' jeans overhead and loud whoops every few seconds.

If Sirius were there, he would've already pantsed James in return and subjected them all to a three-way tussle in the frigid water. He began to jog toward James, trying to ignore the unwelcome surge of guilt that rose up for the hundredth time since he'd accepted James' invitation for the Easter hols.

 _Why should we be stuck here just because he is?_ James had said with a cold severity not like him at all, when he'd practically had to twist Remus' arm to make him go along. _I need a break from this place, and so do you._ That they'd both needed a break from Sirius, who, at any rate, was sentenced to detention with Filch for the duration, went unspoken.

It was quite at odds with the boy who was now wearing a pair of stolen jeans on his head, arms akimbo and shouting a limerick that managed to be both filthy and personally insulting to Remus. He had adamantly refused to let Remus brood from the moment they'd arrived at the Potters' beachside cottage, and his efforts had reached new heights, or lows, depending on one's point of view.

Remus sped up. "Penis and Remus aren't a proper rhyme, you pillock!"

He chased James' laughter around a pile of tumbled boulders that scattered down like a giant pointing finger to the water.

"Got you!"

James sprang out, startling Remus enough to make him stumble back and trip over a smaller rock and fall flat on his arse in the foaming surf.

"Buggering hell!"

James' helpless laughter earned him a deadly glare.

"You're dead, Prongs. Start running."

Remus lunged up as James laughingly backed away, palms up. "Come on," he coaxed. "Into the caves, we can warm up."

"Right. I always head for a dank, drafty cave when I'm in need of a snug haven."

"Don't be a wet blanket."

James grabbed his arm and pulled him into one of the many small caves that fronted the beach. He pulled off Remus' wet shirt before he could protest and then tossed his jeans back at him.

"Take off your wet pants and put these back on."

Remus scowled, but it wasn't like he had another option. He turned away, snorting at James' whistle as he bent over to step into the jeans.

A smack to his arse sent him stumbling and he jerked his head around to glare at his idiot friend. "Prongs, you'd better sleep with one eye open tonight."

"You know you love me." He pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head and offered it to Remus, forcing it over his head when he began to protest. "Don't make a fuss, Moony."

"Ugh, fine. I can do it myself." He blew his fringe away from his eyes as he worked his arms through the proper holes. "My hero," he added with sarcastic venom.

The irony of the delivery wasn't lost on him. However, he knew very well that any sincere expression of the sentiment would result in the kind of ridicule boys of their sort always engaged in when one made the mistake of voicing a less than bloke-ish gratitude or opinion.

As if to confirm his thought, James grinned and settled against the wall of the cave. "Come here, princess." He patted the ground next to him.

Shivering a little, Remus slid down the water-smoothed stone until he was shoulder to shoulder with James, who immediately slung an arm around him and steepled their knees together. A tipsy James always had the tendency to go a bit cuddly, so Remus didn't pay it any mind when his cold nose nuzzled up against his cheek.

"Isn't that better, Moony?" He drew out the nickname in a long, ridiculous croon that made Remus roll his eyes.

"Much." His dry delivery earned him a punishing squeeze.

"You could sound more grateful, you know." James dug his chin into Remus' shoulder. "After all, I'm braving the cold, wet air; manfully bare-chested for you."

"Oh, _thank you_ , James Potter," Remus offered in a breathless, falsetto. "If it wasn't all your fault to begin with I might actually be swooning with gratitude instead of chafing in sensitive places and thinking up ways to pay you back tenfold."

James snickered. "At least the only old birds you flashed today were actually seagulls."

Remus laughed in spite of himself, which only made James laugh harder. "I almost lost it when that one ugly old bat hit you with her brolly."

"Almost? You were rolling around the beach in hysterical fits, clutching my trousers to your chest. Though, why being accused of sexual deviance should amuse you so is quite beyond my comprehension."

"You told her a sand crab had crawled up your trousers! And that I was only trying to help you retrieve it!"

The snuffling laughter against his neck made Remus squirm. "I still think it was a very reasonable explanation. Stupid cow. She hit hard."

"Poor Moony. Abused by old ladies in their Sunday best."

A rather inelegant kiss was placed just under Remus' left ear.

"Er, Prongs. What are you doing?"

"Kissing it better."

Another kiss landed on the edge of his jaw, and Remus turned his head to stare at James incredulously.

"She didn't hit me there."

James grinned. "Are you asking me to kiss you where she _did_ hit you?"

A blush suffused his cheeks and Remus' heart contracted as James leaned close, cupping the back of Remus' skull so that he couldn't look away. "Just go with it, yeah?"

The use of such a well-worn phrase must have flicked an automatic circuit in his mind because Remus did go with it, long used to selectively ignoring the nagging voices of his questionable conscience when they clamored at him about how very bad an idea was.

James' lips were cool and chapped, and Remus tasted the brine of the sea and the lingering flavor of firewhiskey as James initiated a tentative press of lips that gradually evolved into a series of open-mouthed kisses, becoming progressively wetter and more fervent until their tongues were tangling together, and they were sucking in short hard breaths from their noses so they wouldn't have to break the snog.

Finally, James drew back just a little and stared at Remus. "Can't believe you didn't put up a fuss."

Remus shrugged. "Would have if you'd been a bad kisser." The mischievous light in his eyes made James' flash in return. He gave Remus a grin that usually sent staff and fellow students alike into a mild panic.

"You know what I always say..."

"We have a duty to live down to people's expectations?" Remus rejoined.

They sat grinning at each other, then, almost as if choreographed, they dove into another snog. James' light stubble ended up rubbing Remus' throat raw in a completely brilliant way. And he never could have imagined how delicious it would feel to be pushed down on a sandy rock floor and have his shirt bunched up to his armpits so that their chests could rub together with skin-tingling friction.

He found himself arching up to rub his quite insistent hard on against the thigh James had thrust between his legs. James seemed to like it just as much, grinding down eagerly and groaning like he was in pain every time Remus rode up against him.

It was over all too soon. James grunted in his ear and slumped on top of him, their chests pushing against each other with the force of their labored breaths. Remus could feel the sticky, damp patch developing on the crotch of his jeans, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt alive, free, and sublimely, boyishly, human.

The susurration of the waves outside could hardly be distinguished from the sound of his pulse in his ears, and Remus felt for a few wonderful moments like he was engulfed in a warm, soft cocoon that he would gladly stay inside forever.

Then the rocky floor starting to chafe his spine, and James' weight made it impossible to take a deep breath, and the sticky mess in his jeans really was rather unpleasant after all, and the clamoring voices in his head got a little louder.

He gave James a nudge, who rolled off onto his back with his arms spread wide and a smirk on his face that indicated mischief had been achieved, and quite brilliantly at that. Remus couldn't help it. He started laughing again, and James looked at him and laughed too.

"We are _never_ telling anyone about this." Remus jabbed a finger to emphasize his point, then pushed James' crooked spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

"Course not," James agreed easily. He rolled onto his side, propped up on his elbow to regard Remus. "Unless the lovely lasses from the Perranporth Ladies Club pay us another visit. I'm sure they'd be chuffed to know their suspicions were spot on."

"Well, quite. Goes without saying."

Sniggering again, they both rolled onto their stomachs and stared out at the beach. A seagull dove into the water, and James regarded it thoughtfully.

"You reckon Slughorn would know it was us if we owled him that smelly old fish the pelican dropped yesterday?"

"As if you need to ask."

James frowned pensively. "Shame to waste such a horrid smell."

Remus hummed agreement. "Padfoot would love it."

That earned him a sharp glance, but then James' eyes softened, and twin smirks bloomed simultaneously.

"Think it's still there?"

"Oh, yes. Rot had barely set in. Have enough for the owl post on you?"

James jingled his pocket. "Had we better send one to Peter as well?"

"I think that nasty little swimming crab will do for him."

"Oh, yes. His mum will have fits."

"We need to compose a proper letter, of course."

They walked out of the cave, happily discussing the finer points of insulting one's best mates with comparisons to decomposing sea life.

Remus' y-fronts lay forgotten on a damp stone, to be remembered with a blush later that evening by Remus. He ran down early in the morning the next day, before James had woken, but they weren't to be found. He figured the tide must have taken them. And that was probably best; it seemed to wash what had happened away, leaving behind a complete lack of awkwardness between him and James, for which Remus was truly grateful.

Those kinds of thoughts were chased away, at any rate, when the owls from Sirius and Peter came. The explosions forced James and Remus out of the cottage, stumbling blindly and laughing riotously, tears from the noxious fumes making their eyes stream. And later, when Remus read over Sirius' contrite and grateful words once again, and James read over his shoulder with that approving, all is well with the world air of his, Remus himself dared a quiet thank you, casting a quick glance up at James.

The pleased light in James' eyes for just that split second before he roundly began to insult Remus' manhood was enough to satisfy him. Nothing more really needed to be said.


End file.
